


Untitled

by starwheel



Category: The Fate of the Furious (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-24 12:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwheel/pseuds/starwheel
Summary: Shaw shows up at Hobbs' house after a bad mission.





	1. Chapter 1

Hobbs is still at work when he gets the call that Shaw's gone missing. He's not so surprised then to come home around ten, snap the light on in the front room and see a dark smear of blood on the hardwood floor.

He pops the clasp on his holster with his thumb and he silently lays his files on the couch. Samantha's left some comic books and candy-colored hair ties spread across the coffee table.

He crosses to the doorway, his gun in his hands. He flattens his back to the wall. Listens. There's dead silence in the dark hallway. He quickly clears the kitchen, his shadow disturbing the wedge of orange streetlight coming in through the window.

There are finger shapes of blood on the banister.

He finds Shaw propped up against the wall outside the bathroom, naked except for a towel around his waist.

"Agent Hobbs." Shaw raises a bottle of whisky to his lips and swallows a mouthful. "You want to upgrade your security system."

"What are you doing here?" Hobbs holsters his gun and steps around Shaw. He pulls the string for the light in the bathroom and Shaw shields his eyes with his hand, wincing. Hobbs can see now that he's been knocked around. There are vivid red-purple bruises all over his torso.

"You get this from my drinks cabinet?" Hobbs says, squatting down and tugging the bottle of whiskey out of Shaw's hand. The bottle's mostly-full, but Shaw's sinking slowly sideways down the wall like he's drunk, his shoulders at a canted angle.

"Your kid's not around, is she?" Shaw looks towards the stairs.

That was something, at least. Shaw knew the rules - rules Hobbs had laid down when they'd first started fucking around. Shaw came from Hobbs' professional life. That was to be kept strictly separate from Samantha.

"At her mother's." Hobbs catches Shaw's shoulder to stop him sliding further down the wall. "What the hell happened?"

There's blood on the white bathroom towel.

"Where're you bleeding?"

Shaw shows him the back of his hand, the mess of his knuckles.

"You've been called in missing, you know that? Mr Nobody's got half his team out searching for you."

"Fuckers dosed me," Shaw says. He scrubs his finger and thumb against his screwed-shut eyelids.

"I couldn't just get a quiet night." Hobbs slings Shaw's arm around his neck and helps him stand.

*

Shaw lands heavy on Hobbs' bed and sinks down onto his elbows with a grunt. The bruising on his torso looks bad. Hobbs kneels on the mattress and reaches to feel for any broken ribs and Shaw's hand snaps out with the speed and force of a strike, grabbing his wrist.

"Hey. Hey." Hobbs pulls his hand free, knocks Shaw's hand away. Shaw's dark eyes glitter, and Hobbs can see there's a glassy look to them. "Take it easy, tough guy."

"They fuckin gave me somethin. Nobody's medics," Shaw says. "I don't know what the fuck it was." 

"Alright."

Shaw doesn't fight him, he lies unmoving while Hobbs feels carefully along his rib cage where the bruised skin is hot. He presses gently, feeling along the arc of a rib, and Shaw rolls his head back against the bedding, his jaw tensing up. He lets out a breath through his teeth.

"S'just bruising."

"What the hell happened? A tank roll over you?"

"Somethin like that." Shaw passes his hand across his face. "I told 'em no fuckin opioids. Fuckin Yanks and your - fuckin pills."

"So you go chasing it with Jack Daniels." Hobbs pulls out his phone. "Real smart."

The ring tone only sounds twice before Mr Nobody answers.

"Hobbs."

"I've got Shaw here."

"Where?"

"My house."

"Stand down beta team-" Hobbs hears Mr Nobody give the order and a low hubbub of activity on the other end of the line.

"You tell him I'm not fuckin comin back in tonight," Shaw says, getting clumsily to his feet. 

Hobbs catches his arm. "Sit your ass down." 

"You can fuck off." Shaw breaks free and backs up into the nightstand, sending a picture frame clattering to the floor.

Nobody's saying something in Hobbs' ear.

"Just a minute, sir." Hobbs tosses the phone on the bed, grabs for Shaw's arm and Shaw sways back, comes into an open stance like a boxer, his fists up.

"You going to fight me now?" Hobbs says. "You can barely stand."

"I'm not going back tonight."

Hobbs reaches for him again, Shaw slaps his arm down. Hobbs straightens up defensively, ready for a blow, but Shaw's holding his side, stumbling. His foot tangles in the rug and he goes down, managing to pull the landline phone off the nightstand as he goes. 

Hobbs helps him up. Shaw's towel is lying on the floor.

"They've fucked me up...with those fucking pills." Shaw leans his weight heavy into him, his nose smushed against Hobbs' collarbone.

"I know. Come on."

Shaw lets Hobbs lower him down onto the bed.

Hobbs picks up his phone.

"You still there, Mr Nobody?"

"I'm sending a car for him."

"Your boys dosed him with something - painkillers. What happened to him?"

"Well," Mr Nobody says lightly. "He tore up a black-ops sub-division of the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service."

"He's saying he doesn't want to come back in tonight." Hobbs reminds himself he's got Sammy coming tomorrow. He sighs. "Look, I can keep an eye on him."

"It's possible he's earned a little latitude," Mr Nobody says. "That was a hell of a mismatched fight I sent him into. Unforeseen circumstances."

Hobbs looks at Shaw. The man's sleeping flat on his belly, buck naked on top of the sheets.

"I'll send a car for him in the morning," Mr Nobody says.


	2. Chapter 2

Hobbs has a look in the bathroom. Shaw's gear lies where he must have dropped it - black battle dress uniform and boots in a heap by the shower, tactical vest on the bathmat, a war belt heavy with a Glock and three magazine pouches. He finds two SIG-Sauer pistols in a shoulder holster coiled black and dangerous like a snake in the sink, incongruous alongside the objects on the countertop, the toothpaste and toothbrush cup, Sammy's bright blue Berry Blast bubble bath with its grinning cartoon strawberry on the label.

Hobbs dumps all the gear in his study and shuts the door. 

Downstairs, he grabs a beer out the fridge, sits at the kitchen table with his laptop and client files and works until midnight.

He goes up to check on Shaw and finds the man hasn't moved, is still lying in a loose sprawl, his arm stretched out under the pillows, his head turned away. Hobbs admires his ass a bit regretfully as he stands by the dresser unbuckling his holster.

They'd slept together the first time when Hobbs had come on to do consultant work for Mr Nobody, and since then they'd been hooking up sporadically, whenever Shaw got downtime and Hobbs didn't have Sammy for the weekend.

Shaw had only been in his house twice before now. The other times they'd used hotels. Hobbs still isn't sure what thought-process led the man here tonight.

He takes off his watch, sets it down on the dresser, quiet about it but apparently not quiet enough because Shaw lurches to his knees on the bed like a gun's just gone off.

"Easy," Hobbs says, his hand out as he goes to the bed.

Shaw is breathing a little fast. His eyes dart as he takes in the bedroom. He looks at Hobbs again and slowly rests back on his heels, the rigid set of his shoulders easing. 

"You kicking me out?" 

Hobbs folds his arms. "You can stay."

"What about Nobody?"

"I think you must have impressed him."

Shaw huffs out a quiet laugh, glances down at himself, maybe only now becoming aware of his nakedness. He looks at Hobbs from under his brows.

"He tell you I've been a good boy?" 

"Something like that." Hobbs steps closer to the bed. "How're those painkillers treating you?"

"Can't say I care of 'em."

Hobbs takes him by the chin and turns his head to look at the swelling on the side of his face. Shaw lets him do it, thrusts his jaw out slightly, his tongue in his cheek.

"Do I get something for being good, then?" Shaw murmurs, stroking his hand up Hobbs' arm, cupping his bicep and squeezing.

"You look like you've been wailed on with a meat tenderiser," Hobbs says.

Even kneeling naked on the bed, Shaw rounds his shoulders, squaring up to Hobbs as he shifts closer. "I can go another round." 

"Is that right."

Shaw takes hold of Hobbs' belt buckle, tugging him closer so they're almost chest-to-chest. 

"This is nothing. Even you did a better job of tenderising me."

"Even me, huh," Hobbs says. Shaw gives him a crooked smile while his fingers ease the leather tongue of Hobbs' belt through his belt loop.

"Deckard..."

Shaw lifts his chin, arching an eyebrow in a challenge. There's a faint clink of metal as he opens Hobbs' belt buckle. 

"You were pretty out of it just now," Hobbs says.

"Oh yeah? Bother your conscience does it?" Shaw eases Hobbs' fly down. "I'm not really a good boy, you know." 

Hobbs takes a hold of Shaw's hip, slides his other hand round and takes a hold of the soft flesh of his asscheek. "Oh, I know that." 

"So don't trouble yourself." Shaw's hand goes into his open pants, palming Hobbs' cock through his briefs and he kisses Hobbs' mouth, dirty with it from the get go.

Hobbs hasn't gotten laid since the last time they hooked up. He realises he's passed the point of stopping this now that it's happening. He wants it.

Shaw tugs Hobbs' lower lip between his teeth as he draws off.

Hobbs reaches behind him, pulls his t-shirt up his back, over his head, tosses it aside, Shaw's hand still in his pants, moulding the outline of his cock with his hot palm.

Shaw lies back on the bed while Hobbs opens the drawer of the nightstand searching for lube. He switches on the lamp, finds the lube and tosses it on the bed. He looks at Shaw and pauses as sees his body in the light, the red-purple bruising on his torso, a big bruise on his upper thigh where it looked like someone managed to get a boot in - the story of the evening's violence written in bold strokes.

"Problem?" Shaw says. He's half-hard, stroking himself lazily.

"You gonna tell me what the hell happened?" Hobbs says.

Shaw purses his lips like he's thinking about it. "Talking about killing bastards doesn't really do much for me."

He scoots to sit on the edge of the bed, tugs Hobbs' trousers down his thighs.

"Nobody said there were unforeseen circumstances," Hobbs says, stepping out of his trousers, kicking them away, and then it's hard to talk with Shaw nosing at his cock, rubbing his lips against it.

"That's one way of putting it." Shaw peels Hobbs' briefs down, Hobbs' cock springing free. 

Hobbs takes himself in hand and Shaw looks up at him, licking his lips, that cocky challenge that's always in his eyes, like he's unimpressed, his hands curling around the backs of Hobbs' thighs, everything in his pose and expression goading Hobbs.

"Goddamn it," Hobbs mutters as he gives in and slides the head of his cock against Shaw's lips, feeds his cock into Shaw's mouth, taking his hand away and cupping the back of Shaw's neck as he sinks his hot mouth down on him.

Shaw's blowing him, the subtle press and pull of his hands on Hobbs' thighs encouraging him to fuck his mouth, and Hobbs isn't made of stone.

A minute later Hobbs makes the mistake of stroking his hand along Shaw's jaw where it's swollen and bruised. Shaw pulls off him fast.

"Fuck, sorry - are you okay?" Hobbs holds Shaw's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Don't worry about it." Shaw has his hand cupped to his jaw.

Both of them are breathing a little rough in the silence.

Shaw sniffs, wipes his chin with the back of his hand, then wraps his fist around Hobbs' cock again.

"Deckard-"

Shaw takes him in his mouth.

"Wait - wait." Hobbs braces his hands on Shaw's shoulders.

Shaw draws off him and turns his head aside, wiping his lip with his thumb, and there's something belligerent in it, in the way he leans back on his hand, his mouth twisting in a thin smile as he shakes his head. Hobbs can see his cock is soft between his legs.

"I don't need you playing nursey with me," Shaw says.

"Is that what I'm doing."

Shaw reclines on the bed, reaching for the lube, drawing his leg up. He tosses Hobbs the lube, lays flat on his back.

"Are we fuckin doing this or what?"

Hobbs drops the lube back on the bed. He tucks himself into his briefs - not exactly comfortable.

"Oh fucking come on," Shaw says. "Be soft when you're playing daddy daycare, okay? Staying home doing your baking. Don't be soft with me."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Hobbs says.

Shaw shakes his head, smiling thinly again. He shifts on the bed, makes to stand up. Hobbs steps aside to let him and then they're standing close. Shaw's arm brushes against his.

"It means you've been out of the field for too long."

Hobbs grabs Shaw's wrist as he goes to step away.

"You trying to piss me off, son, you're going about it the right way."

"Yeah?" Shaw rounds on him. "So what are you pussy footing around for, sunshine?"

Hobbs narrows his eyes.

Shaw says his next words carefully, leaning in. "You ever think maybe this stay at home dad shit's turning you into a little bitch?"

Hobbs moves first. They lock together. Seconds later Hobbs has Shaw pinned face-down on the bed, his arm pinned up behind his back, pressing his weight into the other man as he tries to roll them, get out from under him. 

"This more what you had in mind?" Hobbs says. "You want me to dislocate shoulder? Huh? Show you I'm a big man?"

"Go fuck yourself," Shaw grits out.

"Why are you trying to piss me off?" Hobbs puts more weight on him. "You're weak as a kitten."

"I could still put you through a fucking window," Shaw rasps out.

The broken skin on Shaw's knuckles had opened up, his left hand leaving finger-paint shapes on the sheets where he grasped them. 

"You're bleeding on my sheets." The anger goes out of Hobbs as he watches Shaw struggle against the bedding, kicking his legs, the powerful muscles down his back shifting and flexing.

Shaw tires himself out quickly, a testament to how exhausted he is. He breathes roughly, loud in the quiet.

"You gonna settle down?" Hobbs says.

"Fuck you."

Hobbs has his old cuffs in the nightstand. He tugs the drawer open one-handed and fishes them out, snaps one bracelet around the wrist of Shaw's pinned arm, hauls Shaw's other arm back with practiced ease and snaps the other bracelet on.

"What the fuck?" Shaw throws a wild look over his shoulder. "Luke - what the fuck is this?"

"I'm giving you a time out. Don't move."

"Fucking hilarious. Take them off."

Hobbs rises up on his knees and Shaw immediately writhes, trying to roll over. Hobbs pins him down by the back of the neck.

"I'm not gonna tell you again. Don't move."

Shaw lies still, panting. His head is turned to one side, his cheek flushed. He shuts his mouth and swallows, keeps his mouth closed and breathes through his nose instead, obviously trying to quiet his panting breaths for pride's sake.

Hobbs takes his weight off him slowly, climbs off the bed. He looks at Shaw lying on his belly, his wrists cuffed together at the small of his back.

"You look good like this."

Shaw lies still for a moment, then he lifts his shoulder and twists his neck to look back at Hobbs, squinting at him with such frank incomprehension that Hobbs can't keep from smiling. 

"Do me a favor," Shaw says, dropping his shoulder, the awkward position too uncomfortable to maintain.


	3. Chapter 3

Hobbs strokes his knuckles down the crack of Shaw's ass. Shaw's gluteal muscles bunch and ease in reaction. Hobbs cups and strokes his asscheeks with both his hands, spreads him.

"Fuck, I wanna eat you out," he murmurs, surprising himself by saying it.

Shaw doesn't move. For a second he even seems to be holding his breath.

"You're out of your fucking mind," he says after a moment, but there's something in his voice.

They don't do this. Christ knows Hobbs loves rimming his partners, always has. But with Shaw it was always off the table. From what Hobbs had been able to put together, Shaw was a type of man who'd drawn a line, and apparently getting his ass eaten was on the other side of that line.

Hobbs moves his knuckles slowly up and down Shaw's crack. He watches how his ribcage fills and empties with each breath. He can only see the side of Shaw's face over his shoulder. The hollow of his eye is shadowed under his heavy brow.

Hobbs sinks slowly to his knees next to the bed. He considers his own hands gently kneading Shaw's ass, then puts his mouth on him, kissing his cheek. The thick muscle of Shaw's thigh tenses under his arm.

He sits back, waiting for Shaw to tell him to fuck off, tell him to take the cuffs off again. 

Shaw says nothing.

Hobbs licks his thumb, puts it to Shaw's asshole and strokes him with small circles. Shaw's shoulder muscles work, trapezius and rhomboid rippling, accentuating the cut of his shoulder blades.

Hobbs kisses him again, wet open-mouthed on his asscheek, almost into the crack of his ass, still working his thumb in tight circles. It's with a wet kissing noise that his mouth comes away. He's left a red blotch on Shaw's asscheek, saliva glistening in the warm lamplight.

"I can take them off," Hobbs says quietly, giving Shaw an out.

He gets no reply.

He slides his hand down under Shaw and finds his cock swollen and stiff, hot and twitching in his hand, asking to be touched.

Hobbs pauses for a second. Shaw holds himself stiff and motionless, breathing. Then Hobbs starts stroking his cock and Shaw tries to draw his leg up under him, abandons the effort, instead squirming on his belly, rubbing his cock into Hobbs' palm as best he can. The small helpless undulation of his hips is all he can manage with the cuffs on.

Hobbs lets go of his cock, holds his ass spread with both hands and seals his mouth to Shaw's perineum, wet and sucking, and Shaw grunts like someone's just punched him in the kidney.

Hobbs nuzzles into the crack of his ass, dabs his tongue all wet and hot against Shaw's asshole, then makes a stiff point of his tongue and prods into the tight ring of muscle.

" _Fuck_ me," Shaw grits out.

Hobbs kisses him, eases the point of his tongue into him again. Shaw's pelvis is moving in uncontrolled reaction to it. It gets messy and wet fast, saliva on Hobbs' mouth and chin, and Shaw all slippery hot between his cheeks. Shaw keeps almost coming up on his knees and Hobbs has to hold him, his arms locked around his thighs, giving Shaw something to strain against.

When Hobbs reaches under him again and strokes his cock, Shaw lifts his hips to be touched, his prick all wet at the tip, twitching in Hobbs' hand, his hips working back against Hobbs' mouth as Hobbs rims his asshole. Shaw says something thickly, his voice low and desperate like Hobbs hasn't heard it before. 

His body locks up for a second as he starts to come, then he fucks into Hobbs' fist, rough and jerky.

Hobbs gets the cuffs off him and Shaw's arms drop limp to his sides. He lies panting, a sheen of sweat down his back, his head turned away from Hobbs.


	4. Chapter 4

Hobbs places the cuffs on the nightstand.

He lays his hand on Shaw's calf muscle and Shaw doesn't stir at all. 

Hobbs picks up a corner of the duvet and nudges Shaw's shoulder. It takes a little while to get him to move, and when he does it's like he's only semi-conscious, turning slowly onto his back as Hobbs works the duvet out from under him.

Shaw has his arm thrown across his eyes, his jaw loose and his lips parted, breathing deep and even, dead to the world. Hobbs goes to the window and opens it to the cool air. Somewhere far off a siren wails in the night.

He strips off the duvet cover, dumps it in the hamper out in the hall, then he showers, masturbates under the warm spray, brushes his teeth, returns to the bedroom and climbs into bed. He switches off the bedside lamp, listens to Shaw's quiet breathing next to him and soon he's asleep as well.

*

The doorbell chime wakes him.

The bedroom is bright with sunlight. Hobbs sits up with a grunt as the bell chimes again, twice.

Shaw stirs next to him in bed and it's weird to find him there - their hook ups don't end with them waking up together in the morning usually.

Hobbs gets up and pulls on some sweatpants.

"Shit," Shaw mutters, his voice gravelly, almost hoarse.

"Your ride," Hobbs says. He heads downstairs, opens the door, and he's expecting to see one of Nobody's agents. Instead he finds Sammy and Louise.

"Hey, Dad." Sammy gives him a quick hug before darting past him.

"I know we're early - I could only get a flight for this morning and I need to be there for the dinner tonight. You don't mind, do you?" Louise is searching through her purse, looking frazzled. "I tried calling you." 

"It's fine." Hobbs looks back over his shoulder, hears the clatter of a bowl from the kitchen.

"I've got to go." Louise pecks Hobbs on the cheek, calls, "Bye, Sammy!"

"Bye, Mom!" comes Sammy's shout from the kitchen.

Hobbs gives her a wave as she hurries around her car. He closes the door.

Sammy's sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal, the TV blaring cartoons.

"Just gonna grab a shower, sweetie," he says, stroking her head as he passes.

" _I am the one and only heir to the throne of the lumpy space kingdom..._ " a purple cloud on the tv is saying in a refined British accent. 

Upstairs, he goes into the bedroom and shuts the door behind him. Shaw is pulling up his battle dress uniform pants. The rest of his gear is laid out on the bed.

"My daughter's here," Hobbs says.

"I heard." Shaw buttons his pants and turns. He's got his shirt from last night in his hands.

"You want a clean one?"

Shaw looks from the shirt to Hobbs.

Hobbs makes the decision for him, tosses him a clean white t-shirt from the dresser.

"Cheers." Shaw pulls it on quickly and then kneels down to lace his boots.

Hobbs goes to the closet and grabs his tactical backpack. He hands it to Shaw.

Shaw doesn't question it, takes the bag and starts methodically packing his gear into it. 

When he's done he zips and shoulders the backpack and straightens. He reaches for his side, automatically checking his gun, but it's with the war belt in the backpack along with everything else.

"I'll go out the window," he says with a jerk of his thumb. "Wait out of sight of the house."

Hobbs checks the hallway to make sure Sammy hasn't come upstairs. "Go out the back. Use the window in the study."

Shaw nods. He reaches down and touches his watch on his wrist, turning the steel bracelet slightly, shifting the position of the watch face.

"Uh." He squints, looking aside. "Look, about last night."

Hobbs looks him over. "What about it?"

Shaw sniffs, sticks his chin out a little, rounding his shoulders. He touches his watch again without seeming to realise he's doing it. 

"Sorry about that. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"Nothing to apologise for." Hobbs lets the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. "Aside from drinking my whiskey."

"Well. I don't like leaving a job undone."

"Dad!" Sammy's voice calls from downstairs.

Shaw moves silently around the back of the door as Hobbs draws it open.

"What is it, honey?" 

"Your phone's ringing."

Hobbs realises he left his cell phone down in the kitchen last night.

"I'll come get it." He glances at Shaw who gives him a small nod. They both know the call will be Mr Nobody telling him the car's either on its way or outside.

"Try not to break anything climbing out the window," Hobbs murmurs.

Shaw rubs his chin, his expression telling Hobbs to fuck off without him having to say it.

By the time Hobbs reaches the kitchen he knows Shaw's already gone.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as far as I'd planned for this story, but I might add more if I get any ideas. Thanks for the comments & kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

"So...Neil." Louise smiles a big smile, her fingers fiddling with the stem of her wineglass. "Data analysis? What exactly..." Her drop earrings glitter as she shakes her head with a self-deprecating laugh. "What exactly does that...involve?"

"Gosh." Neil glances at Hobbs. "I don't want to bring the mood down."

"No, go ahead," Hobbs says. Louise snorts, hides her mouth behind her napkin, and Tony, sitting next to her, starts to laugh as well. 

"Bring it," Hobbs says, grinning at Neil. "Bring it on down!"

"Alright," Neil chuckles, looking round the table. Between the four of them they've gone through four bottles of wine. The restaurant is pleasantly low-lit. Neil pushes his plate aside and spreads his hands, his face handsome in the candlelight.

"My job is to understand data and clean it, write an algorithm, optimise the algorithm. It's- Imagine an engine in a car -"

Hobbs feels his phone buzzing in his trouser pocket and he shifts in his seat, wondering for a second if it might be Sammy at her friend's house with some emergency. His phone goes silent and he waits to see if it will start up again but it doesn't. He's been keeping his eyes on Neil's face to mask his inattention and now he realizes he's lost the thread of what he was saying.

"-that's really the art of data science." Neil folds his hands. "And now that I've bored you all to death..."

"Hey, no," Hobbs says.

"I think I actually understood that," Louise adds.

"No shame in being boring around here," Tony says. Louise smacks his shoulder.

"I'm just saying-" Tony gestures towards Hobbs and then thumps the table a little heavily so the cutlery jingles. "We can't all be this guy. I just accepted it. I'm a boring son of a bitch!" 

"Boring is good," Louise says, raising her eyebrows significantly, teasingly, at Hobbs. 

"I'll drink to that," Tony says.

They all raise their glasses.

"Boring is good," Hobbs laughs. His eyes meet Neil's as they tip their glasses back and drink.

He'd spent the week leading up to this dreading tonight, but now he's here he doesn't know what he was worried about. The double-date had been Louise's idea, _Neil_ had been Louise's idea - and like most of her ideas, it was a good one.

"Now, what about dessert?" Tony says.

"Mr Hobbs?"

Hobbs lowers his glass and looks at the guy in the suit who has just come up to the table.

"Would you mind coming outside with me for a moment, sir?"

Hobbs takes in the earpiece the guy is wearing, the slight bulge of a firearm under his jacket.

"Luke?" Louise looks uncertainly at Hobbs.

*

He swings down into the back seat of the black town car parked outside.

"This better be good."

"We need you to come in." Little Nobody looks back at him from the passenger seat, his face in shadow. "It's urgent."

"How many times we gotta go through this, Training Wheels," Hobbs sighs. "I don't work for the DSS anymore. You want _Agent Fonseca_. Here, let me give you his number-"

"We have his number. Mr Nobody sent me for _you_."

"Can it at least wait until after dinner?" Hobbs gestures to the restaurant. "I'm on a date."

Little Nobody just goes on staring at him like he hasn't been on a date since high school - and hell, to have reached his position at his age, maybe he hasn't.

"Okay, fantastic," Hobbs says, popping the door handle. "Louise is gonna love this."

*

Hobbs climbs down the steps of the jet and Mr Nobody meets him at the bottom, clasps his hand firmly.

"Appreciate it, Luke, sorry for the short notice," he says, shouting to be heard over the jet engine powering down, the wind on the landing strip whipping at his suit jacket and tie.

Nobody ushers Hobbs towards a waiting car. The lights from the landing strip fall away and the car swings into utter darkness. They might have entered a tunnel for all Hobbs knew. 

Nobody asks him about the private investigation firm, about Samantha, how she's doing in school, and they make small talk until a huge military base looms into view out of the darkness, blazing with flood lights. The surrounding land looks like desert.

"Where the hell are we?" Hobbs says.

"Afraid I can't divulge that information," Nobody says mildly.

*

Underground, down a series of corridors, inside a dark viewing room, Hobbs stands with Mr Nobody in front of a two-way mirror, their reflections showing faintly in the glass.

They watch as on the other side of the mirror Shaw paces the length of a depressing concrete-walled interrogation cell like a lion in a cage.

"Twelve men were killed by an IED," Nobody says, resting his hands on the sill. "And a further six men of his team Shaw hospitalised himself."

"Why?" Hobbs says.

"Because he's losing it," Little Nobody says from behind them.

Nobody waves the remark away with a small movement of his hand. "Shaw's always been something of a loose canon. We knew that when we brought him on." 

They go on watching Shaw through the glass and Hobbs folds his arms, feeling prickly and strange spying like this when Shaw can't see them. 

Shaw paces slowly up and down, up and down, eyeballing the mirror with a hard stare each time he approaches it.

"You're wondering," Nobody says, turning to Hobbs, "why I hauled your ass all the way out here." He gives Little Nobody a nod and the kid hands Hobbs a file.

"You ever seen anything like that before?" Nobody murmurs. The first photo inside the file is a blown-up image of a man's arm with a tattoo depicting a human with two wolf heads.

"Can't say that I have," Hobbs says. 

"It's the insignia of a terrorist organisation known as Lupercal. We have reason to believe they're connected to Cypher. How about those men - recognise anyone?"

Hobbs leafs through grainy surveillance photos and mug shots.

"Mihai Petran," he says, pausing over a photo. "Slippery son of a bitch. I put him behind bars back in '06. He was strangled to death by another prisoner in Leavenworth if I remember correctly."

"He had ties with the leader of Lupercal - a man named Kenny Galloway." Nobody indicates a mugshot of a bearded man. "Responsible for the bombing of the USS _Kidd_. He was never caught. We've been attempting to track his movements for the last two years. Recently he's gotten hold of technology that's allowed him to evade God's Eye. Tonight, we believed we'd found him. We had good information, we had a location. I sent in Shaw with a unit to smoke him out."

There's a pause.

"You said there was an IED inside the building?" Hobbs says.

"It was a trap. They knew we were coming," Nobody says grimly. He turns away from the mirror. "I want you to come in on this, Luke. Lead the operation."

"Ah." Hobbs frowns down at the file. 

"Mihai Petran moved in the same circles as Galloway. You're the only man who was ever able to find and capture Petran."

Hobbs closes the file slowly, hands it to Mr Nobody.

"I appreciate you thinking of me, sir. But I'm not an agent anymore."

"Final answer?"

"Yes, sir."

"You can't blame a man for trying." Nobody passes the file off to Little Nobody. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. And I'm sorry that I'm about to ask you to go in there with me while I tell Shaw he's on medical leave. He needs to undergo some testing in LA. I don't want him doing anything rash-"

"Testing?" Hobbs repeats.

"Psychological evaluation," Little Nobody says.

There's a pause and Hobbs' face must be saying something because Nobody holds up his hands as if to absolve himself. "Even we have regulations. He hospitalized six of his own teammates."

"What is it you want me to do, sir?" Hobbs says. "Me and Deckard...we don't exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things." He's studying Nobody's face closely, a sense of unease coming over him. Not for the first time he wonders if Nobody knows about him and Shaw. It's probable.

"Managing Shaw is a full time occupation," Nobody says, his expression remaining mild, inscrutable. "I'm not asking you to do that. He'll be assigned an agent to check in with daily. I just need you to get him on the damn plane and make sure he gets to LA."


	6. Chapter 6

Shaw's wearing a hard expression as he turns, but it falters as his eyes land on Hobbs coming in the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

They haven't seen each other in weeks, not since Shaw showed up at his house battered and bruised.

"Me and Mr Hobbs had some business to discuss," Nobody says.

"Business," Shaw repeats. Nobody walks past him and Shaw takes the opportunity while the man's back is turned to raise his eyebrows at Hobbs and fix him with a slightly crazed wide-eyed stare. Hobbs just shakes his head in reply and then Little Nobody comes in, shuts the door behind him. 

"Tell Mr Shaw how captain Nowak's doing," Nobody says.

"The doctors are saying his spinal cord injury won't result in paralysis after all," Little Nobody says.

"Fabulous," says Shaw. He looks around the room at the three of them. "Can I get the fuck out of here now?"

"You attacked six of your teammates, Deckard," Nobody says. "Surely you can see how that's a problem."

"A man puts a gun in my face, accuses me of sabotaging the mission - we're gonna have a problem, yeah." Shaw turns to Mr Nobody. "You give me real men to work with or you let me hunt Galloway on my own."

Nobody smiles thinly. "When we made this deal, you told me you were going to work on being a team player." 

Shaw steps closer to Nobody and out the corner of his eye Hobbs sees Little Nobody make an abortive move to intervene and then stop as he thinks better of it.

"I’m not some poodle you keep on a leash til you want me to do a trick," Shaw says. 

"I don't think anyone could accuse you of being a poodle, Mr Shaw," Nobody says pleasantly.

"Let me do this my way," Shaw says. "I'll bring you Galloway."

Next to Hobbs, Little Nobody snorts.

"Something to contribute, sweetheart?" Shaw says, turning his head slowly.

"We have agents who can hunt down a terrorist without incapacitating half their team and getting the other half killed," Little Nobody says.

"Okay," Hobbs says as he sees Shaw start to round on the kid. He places himself in front of him.

"It's my fault there was a fucking IED waiting for us, is it?" Shaw says, leaning around Hobbs. Hobbs plants a hand in his chest.

"All I know is I wouldn't be picking fights with my teammates if I knew I was one failed mission away from going back to jail," Little Nobody says.

Shaw pauses. His eyes snap first to Hobbs, then Mr Nobody. "Is that what's happening here?"

"You're not going back to jail," Nobody says. "Not yet anyway. But you're suspended from field duty pending a psych evaluation."

Shaw says nothing for a moment. His face screws up like he's bit into a lemon.

"Sorry - is this a fucking joke?"

"The deal was pretty straightforward, Mr Shaw. As long as you're working for us, you stay out of prison. That's if you're _fit_ to work."

"You're seriously pulling me out the field over this bullshit?" Shaw says. "Cypher's still out there, Galloway's the best connection to her we have - and you want me sitting round here with my thumb up my arse?"

"You'll be in LA, actually," Nobody says.

Shaw looks at Hobbs. "You knew about this?"

"Not until five minutes ago," Hobbs says.

"It's four one-hour sessions with a psychologist," Nobody says. 

"A psychologist." Shaw rubs his hands over his face with a sigh. "Right. What the fuck do I need to see a psychologist for?"

"You haven't been sleeping, have you, Mr Shaw?"

"Jesus Christ."

"Your behavior has become increasingly volatile."

"Volatile." Shaw tips his head back and squints at the ceiling. "You hired me to kill people, correct?"

There's a pause. Mr Nobody comes to stand in front of Shaw. He pats his shoulder amiably.

"Just get through the evaluation. It would be unfortunate if your brother had to go back into a black site prison because you failed to honor your end of the agreement."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short segments, I'm just posting as I go.


End file.
